


Broken and Rebuild

by Kiray



Category: Football RPF
Genre: AU - No girlfriends etc., Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Crying, Hurt and comfort, I don't know what I'm doing I have work to do, I just needed this after the final because Croatia should've won, Kinda Fluffy, M/M, PWP, Smut, and Luka shouldn't have been this sad, but I needed this and maybe I'm not the only one, or if you'd like them to be there I suppose you can think of it that way as well, pretty much at least, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 02:18:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15305256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiray/pseuds/Kiray
Summary: A few days after the world cup final Luka is back in Madrid. It's hard to overcome the disappointment and all the guilt that comes with feeling like you could've and should've done more to lead your team to a win.It's a good thing to have a friend around who knows exactly what you're going through.Or: Cris has Luka come over to 'comfort' him after the loss.Purely written because the author hated the result of this final and needed a way to cope with it all.





	Broken and Rebuild

**Author's Note:**

> I think the summary says it all. Maybe this can reach/help a few others who're heartbroken after Croatia's loss. They deserved that stupid trophy so much more than France, I can't even.... I just won't get into it or I wouldn't stop ranting. Damn it though! Seriously!
> 
> Oh, and: Because I just wrote this in a rush this is not betaed. I did read over it twice myself but everyone knows how hard it can be to find your own errors. So I hope I didn't miss too many, I apologise and hopefully you can still enjoy this.

There are tears – of course there are – because the wound is still open, fresh, torn apart and bleeding. But there’s also sweat, because there’s nothing to do but to groan, arch back in the purest form of agony and sweat when your cock gets swallowed to the hilt by the best player in the world.

Luka hadn’t believed that going to Cristiano’s would help at all, but the Portuguese with all his might and overwhelming personality hadn’t left him a chance to say no. They were soon to be parted fully, had been the argument, Cristiano leaving for Juventus - it was good to use this chance to see each other.

Over would be the times of them holding hands laughing during practise and chipping each other balls on the field for more and more titles. Those news had stung a little, Luka barely able to hide his disappointment when Cris had called him the night after, even though he understood. Craving the feel to be loved, cherished and acclaimed by fans was the core of Cristiano’s personality. He loved the spotlight, he needed the attention like a fish needed water and the Madridistas had long started to disenchant their superstar, to whistle and boo at him, whenever he played a game that didn’t feature at least two goals on his behalf – not even getting started on what it must’ve felt like for Cristiano to have the team management break promises to his face. 

Luka got it. Still the idea of playing without CR7 was painful and now whenever the Croatian thought of it it amplified the pain he felt over the world cup loss. Everything was changing, expectations hadn’t been met and there was no safety net – for none of them. Real would lack Cristiano’s creativity, Luka knew, they would lack the leadership and he himself would lack a great friend, a person he’d come to love for his mentality, his empathy and gosh, right now the way he curled his tongue. Why had they never done _this_ before?

Luka had no idea how they had ended up like this. He had come over begrudgingly about half an hour ago and then Cristiano had kissed him as soon as he’d stepped into the house – out of the blue, no hesitation, no second thoughts and it had felt like Cris understood.

That feeling hadn’t vanished when Cris had thrown the door shut with force, had pressed Luka up against it and raided his mouth like it belonged to him. For a few minutes the Croatian hadn’t been sure if maybe it did. Cris had lifted him up even, both hands possessive on his hips and ass, locking him in between the dark wood and his body – and while maybe the expected reaction in that situation would’ve been resistance, Luka had found himself wrapping his arms around Cristiano’s neck, pulling and holding on for dear life. 

No, he certainly hadn’t expected himself to need this – but oh gosh he did.

They had stumbled to get upstairs, the air between them heavy, filled with longing and desperation, Luka almost jumping back into Cristiano’s arms the second they’d found the Portuguese’s bedroom. It had forced a chuckle out of the older one, pointing him to get Luka back against the wall right next to the door. That’s where they were now. The Croatian’s pants pooling around his ankles after Cris hadn’t used much of his usual grace or finesse to get his mouth on him. 

It was hard to grasp why he was crying, some weird mixture of pain and a sort of relief Luka hadn’t thought he’d be able to feel for at least another few months. He’d been so composed on the field, in every interview, bottling up all the disappointment and hurt deep inside but somehow Cris with his raw intensity had reached down deep and ripped his emotions out of his gut. 

The younger one’s fingers slipped into dark hair that was thankfully not styled too much, easily moving through the short strands, massaging the scalp beneath, while at the same time trying to swallow his moans. Cris though, being Cris, looked up through long lashes, drawing away and licking a broad stripe over Luka’s tip before leaning back his head with a smug expression gracing his face. 

“Come on, babe, are you really going to hold back now?” his voice was raw and the pure idea that this had been caused by Luka’s length roughly being forced down sensible flesh, left the Croatian a shuddering mess. 

“Cris please” the younger one’s voice was soft, his tone helpless with an edge of desperation that caused visible goosebumps on Cristiano’s skin. His expression softened while he rushed to stand up and push up the simple white shirt Luka was still wearing. 

“You really need to go shopping with me.” Cristiano mumbled into soft skin before drawing back enough to get rid of the fabric. That forced a short laugh out of the Croatian because in no universe he’d ever be able to pull off any of the looks that his friend loved to go for. 

“No clothes needed right now.” Luka managed to get out, reaching slightly more carefully for Cristiano’s shirt, pushing it up over perfectly sculpted abs, revealing more and more tanned skin. Gosh… Cris was ridiculous. This whole situation was. 

But the Croatian wasn’t going to complain, not even think. Not now. He needed this.

With both of their shirts on the ground Luka moved to cling to the taller man again, pressing their bodies skin on skin and finding a small smirk on his tear-streaked face as he heard Cris’ gasp against his ear, while pressing his lips into his neck. 

“Take me.” It wasn’t more than a mumble, carrying the much smaller _Take care of me_ in its undertone, but Cris’ arms snapped around him like they’d been waiting for the signal. Luka’s last time with a man had been years ago but right now he couldn’t imagine anyone else but Cristiano easing the raw need that had flared up inside of him. 

Two hands on his backside, gripping tightly, had him moaning softly into hot skin while he pressed his forehead against Cristiano’s shoulder.

“You like this?” the Portuguese’s voice sounded inquisitive but slightly teasing. All Luka could do was nod. 

“Want me to handle you rough, hm?” Cris dropped down to a whisper, turning his head to let his breath and lips ghost over Luka’s ear. “Because you feel like it’s all your fault, like you could’ve done better, like you would’ve needed to be better. And now everyone treats you like glass, like you might burst into a million pieces, every step you take, like you’re on edge. And they tell you how good you were, how amazing you played, how proud they are, no criticism, all lies because they pity you. Because you’re weak.”

Luka swallowed hard. His eyes were pressed shut, his fingers digging into Cris’ neck and he wasn’t sure if he remembered how to breathe. 

“But what you really need is someone to fucking understand. To do to you what you deserve, for someone to respect you enough to break you apart and punish you for how you weren’t good enough. Isn’t that it?”

And that did it. A sob ripped itself from Luka’s throat, raw and loud and his hands slipped down, fisting thin air against Cris’ chest, lacking an alternative because his shirt was already gone. He wished he could say anger was the driving force behind his actions but it wasn’t and they both knew. Cris words had hit far too close to home and while Luka was well aware that this came from the older one’s own experiences, right now he didn’t have the mind left to analyse and sort things out. 

Right now it just hurt.

Tears fell from his eyes, down onto Cris’ chest, rolling over the tanned skin until they disappeared between the two of them. They didn’t move for a minute or two, before Cristiano moved his hands up Luka’s back, slower, softer, rubbing broad palms into sore muscles, still bruised here and there from rough tackles or desperate moves during the final. 

Then those fingers dipped down again, taking a hold of perfectly rounded cheeks, squeezing them before Cris’ dropped his knees just enough to lift Luka up. On instinct the Croatian’s arms found their way back around the older one’s neck. He was still crying though the audible sobbing had stopped. 

“I’ve got you.” Cris’ voice rumbled deep in Luka’s ear, while the Portuguese brought them over to the bed, where he laid the smaller man down with more care than most people would ever expect of him. 

“Shhhh, baby.” Soft kisses followed the warm voice, lips pressing to Luka’s ear, his neck, his jawline and his cheek. “I’ll take care of you.” And somehow the Croatian believed him. He was still holding onto the strong neck, his fingernails buried probably a hint too deep in sensitive skin but he couldn’t bring himself to care and apparently neither did Cris. At least this treatment made him stop crying. 

Broad hands slipped beneath Luka’s smaller frame, cupping his ass again and holding onto the firm flesh with insistence while Cris leaned in for another kiss, comforting and weirdly juxtaposing the pure need the strong fingers advertised. 

“Let’s get it over with the punishment, hm?” the Portuguese murmured into the kiss after a moment and the younger one found himself nodding silently in agreement even though he had no idea what the other one had in mind. The idea to just give himself up this way helped though and he whimpered when Cris drew back, leaving him colder than before, feeling alone and exposed, closing his eyes on instinct.

“Look at me.” A sudden change in voice made it commanding and suddenly all the leadership Cristiano was loved and feared for on the field bled into the situation, directing Luka to snap his eyes open, focusing on his friend for the first time in a while. 

“Now stay like this.” Cris directed, moving Luka’s hands up to have them both left and right of his head on the pillows. “Promise me to tell me if I do anything you don’t enjoy.” Luka nodded but Cristiano shook his head. 

“Tell me.”

He swallowed. “I promise I’ll tell you if you do anything I don’t enjoy.” His voice was raw, open and as vulnerable as he felt. It was obvious Cris wasn’t going to dive into anything crazy with him, not like this, not when this was their first and maybe only time together, but he appreciated the fact that Cris took the time to make sure they were on the same page.

The Portuguese nodded before he moved both hands along the underside of Luka’s thighs, scratching his nails over the skin softly. He was holding the younger one’s gaze and the Croatian wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He’d been told to stay the way he was, so he tried his best, biting his lips during the process. 

The glim in Cristiano’s eyes was all Luka got as a warning before the unexpected burn of a fingertip stretching him raw shot through his body, pointing him to curl in on himself. A gasp left his lips, before he bit down on them harshly, trying to not move too much because it was supposed to hurt. He was supposed to suffer. He didn’t deserve better. He deserved to be punished. 

“That’s it.” Cris hummed as he leaned down again, his finger unmoving with Luka clenching around the tip. He brushed his lips over Luka’s and nudged their noses together. “Tell me you deserve it.” The Portuguese’s voice had dropped lower again.

Luka swallowed. 

“I deserve it.”

His voice was weak, and small, saying it out loud made his head swim and his heart hurt. 

The second the words had left his lip, the finger inside him moved deeper. Not by much but it made him gasp again, hiss even, pressing his eyes close at the burn of the intrusion. “Say it again.”

And Luka did, voice repressed and helpless, his legs slotting themselves together as little as they could with Cristiano settled comfortably between them. 

“Tell me you deserve to be cherished.”

Luka blinked, his body relaxing, barely registering the way Cris hand drew back completely in the surprise that overtook him. 

“What?” 

“You heard me. Do it, Luka.”

Cris lips brushed over his cheek before the Croatian got to witness all the grace Cris was usually admired for, as the older one slid down his body effortlessly. 

“I….” This was so much harder than what had been asked off of him before. He never praised himself. He wasn’t extraordinary, there was no reason for him to be praised. 

Cris, slowly running out of patience apparently, nibbled the skin at the base of Luka’s length, looking up at him through long lashes again. 

“Come on babe, I can’t wait to swallow you down again. Remember how you shivered when you heard my voice strained from your cock? Don’t you want to make me sound like that again? Wrecked because of you?”

Luka wasn’t sure how close his body could physically get to a blackout without actually fainting but he felt pretty close. 

“I… deserve to be cherished.” He mumbled and threw back his head with a moan as Cris, without any hesitation, swallowed him down whole, apparently chasing the feeling of having the younger one grow against his tongue. 

The Croatian’s hands moved and Cris didn’t stop him as they found their way onto his head again, holding him in place and spurring him on. He was moving his head up and down, tongue dancing and curling skilfully in a way Luka wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. 

When Cris drew back, against the resistance of the younger one’s hands, another whine let the Portuguese chuckle. 

“Tell me you deserve to be loved.”

“I thought I didn’t need people to tell me how amazing I am.” Luka mumbled breathlessly in a weak defence but Cris could hear the sincerity behind his words.

The Portuguese’s fingers wrapped themselves around the still perfectly wet length in front of him, easily starting to jack his partner off almost nonchalantly. Luka’s eyes fell close as his hips rolled into the touch. 

“You don’t need people to pity you.” Cristiano simply answered. “I don’t. I know. I understand.” He leaned up easily, brushing his lips over Luka’s, surprising the smaller one. “I’ve been there countless times. On my own, disappointed, angry, eager to be hated, eager for someone to finally be honest to me and just tell me off. But I didn’t deserve it then and neither do you deserve it now. It doesn’t help.”

Luka just shivered, the honesty and closeness of it all almost being too much. 

“Pain can take the edge off, I know. We both know, from whenever we tried to kill us in the gym after a bitter loss, if it weren’t for the physios. But it’s not the answer.” Cris voice had become softer. 

“What do you need, Luka?”

He didn’t know. The Croatian moved his hands over broad shoulders and shrugged his own.

“I’ll show you.” Cris smiled into his lips, he could feel it and arched into the softer touch of a hand slowly moving from his length over his stomach to his side and back. Then those lips were back on his cock again and Luka forgot to hold back. He kept his eyes closed, sounds of pleasure leaving his lips, while Cris licked him from tip to base and back, tongue supporting the weight of him on his way down the older man’s throat. It was almost too much, every touch so perfectly orchestrated to guide Luka towards an edge he wasn’t yet ready to fall off from until Cris stopped, smirking at the noise of protest as the Croatian looked down through half-lidded eyes. 

Cris apparently though had a plan, moved his hands easily to catch Luka’s side and turned him, humming when he could bite into the firm flesh of his ass before nuzzling the maltreated area. 

The gasp escaping Luka’s throat as Cris kissed his tailbone while slowly pushing his finger – this time heavily lubed up – back in between his cheeks was louder than intended and left the Portuguese with a soft laugh, while the younger one tried pouting for a second, before he breathed out heavily. 

“That’s right, relax.” Mumbled Cris, softly encouraging Luka, supporting the relaxing muscles by kissing up and down the Croatian’s spine. 

It didn’t take too long for the now slow, gentle but deliberate Portuguese to coax the younger one’s body into compliance, pressing in a second finger and soon after a third before moving them in and out agonizingly slow, while smirking into Luka’s neck. 

“You’re so quiet.” Cris voice was gentle, his lips turning into a soft grin against the Croatian’s skin as he heard the younger one’s breath hitch. “If your hips weren’t moving into me ever so slightly, I could start thinking you didn’t want me, you know?” 

He was fetching for compliments, they both knew it, and for Luka’s laugh, but even though he tried the smaller man couldn’t help himself and huff out an amused sound. “I guess you lack the talent to make me scream your name.” He fired back, grinning when he felt the way the older one’s head snapped up. He didn’t need to see Cristiano to know that he had expected a different reaction and chuckled when he felt those long fingers that had rocked him into a pleasant feeling of exhaustion, relaxation and hunger curl slightly on the next move inside. 

A soft gasp left younger one’s lips, followed by a chuckle. 

“Cris…” Luka’s voice was relaxed now, so much more relaxed than before. “Please.”, he rocked his hips gently back into the Portuguese’s fingers, biting his lips and shivering softly again. “I need you.” He turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse of his unexpected lover looking at him clearly contemplating if he should give in to what they both apparently wanted – the bulge in Cris shorts was impossible to ignore –, or if his pride forbid him to do so. 

To alleviate the decision for the older one Luke moved his body just enough to be able to reach for Cris’ free hand, gasping gently at the change of angle of those long fingers inside him, guiding the other one onto his cock. 

“Feel it…” Luka’s mumble almost turning into a purr. “I’m leaking for you, Cris. I need you. You promised you’d take care of me.”

The next thing Luka knew Cris was fully on top of him again, searching for his lips, no matter the weird angle of the kiss and smirking just for a second before closing his hand around the hard length the Croatian had drawn him towards while at the same time pushing his fingers inside roughly, leaving the younger one gasping, unsure of which touch to push into. 

It was obvious though that the playful attempt at teasing the younger one hadn’t been meant to turn into the main act and a second later Luka found himself on his back, looking up at the gorgeous figure that was Cristiano Ronaldo, following the easy movements the older one needed to get rid of his shorts. 

“Not bad, eh?” Cris smirked playfully, fully aware of the hungry stare the Croatian couldn’t direct to anywhere else, before he moved back over the younger one, slotting their hips together before reaching for a kiss fully broken by their accumulated moaning. 

It was Luka who fumbled around for a sheath, finding the package and opening it while his lips were still focused on brushing and bruising over Cris’. His hands moved down with new found self-confidence, reaching for the hot length moving against his own and growling out a frustrated sound when Cris wouldn’t hold still for him to prepare. 

“Sorry.” Another soft chuckle, before the older one reached for the lube himself only to slowly bury himself inside the Croatian a few seconds later. 

“Oh fuck, Luka.” 

Cris voice broke as he spoke and the younger one would’ve loved to smirk but couldn’t. His body was leaning into the touch far more than he would’ve expected himself. He was shivering, rolling his hips gently even before Cris was fully seated, turning his head from side to side, trying to get over the way his body so suddenly felt pushed to the limit. 

Cristiano leant down once he felt more comfortable, kissing him again, breathing each other’s air before they both started moving as if on cue. The world around them dissipated, all that was left were the sounds of their skin moving, heavy panting only interrupted by sounds of pleasure whenever Cris moved _just right_. 

As always a fast learner it took the Portuguese not too long to figure out how to handle Luka, gripping his hips tightly for support before fucking into him with more force, quite obviously brushing over just the right spot when the Croatian involuntarily pressed his head back soundlessly asking for more – and Cris complied. 

Even though Luka had no idea how Cris knew, as soon as he felt like his body was balancing right on the edge between pleasure and pure ecstasy long fingers wrapped around his cock, starting to move in a rhythm that fit the one of his hips almost too well. 

It was too much too fast and all Luka could do was grip onto Cris biceps, digging his fingers into the hot flesh while Cristiano’s name left his lips with a desperate cry, followed by moans after moans, turning into softer whimpers with every additional thrust rushing into his oversensitive body. 

“Cris…” The Croatian whimpered again, grabbing the other man’s neck and pulling him down desperately for a kiss while he rolled his hips up into the less and less pointed thrusts. “So good.” Luka praised, scratching his nails over sensitive skin. “Come on, I want to feel you. Fill me up, Cris.” 

Hearing the always so well composed Croatian purr this kind of filth was too much for Cristiano and they both shuddered when his body finally gave in as well. 

The older one drew back softly, getting rid of the sheath, before leaning back down easily to catch Luka’s lips for a lazy kiss which had the Croatian melt into the pillows. 

“So sorry, I couldn’t actually fill you up with the sheath and all.” Cris mumbled playfully, coaxing a soft laugh out of Luka who shook his head.

“Maybe next time.” The Croatian mumbled in a similar tone, fully aware of the fact that neither of them knew if there would ever be a next time. 

“Maybe.” 

Cris moved them, getting up to catch a small towel to throw at Luka for him to clean himself, before settling back down next to him with a smile on his lips. The younger one let the towel fall off the bed, and couldn’t hold back a small sigh when he sunk into the larger frame next to him, head on Cristiano’s chest.

“Thank you.” Luka’s voice was soft and he felt the Portuguese nodding gently, before a small kiss was placed on top of his head. 

“Tell me that you deserve to be loved, Luka.” Cristiano answered and the Croatian could hear the smile that had to be on those lips while the older one talked.

“I deserve to be loved.” He answered carefully, still doubting the truth of the statement but it helped… made his heart jump a little and it felt as if he could feel Cris’ heart jumping in unison.

“I’m really going to miss you, you know? When you’re in Turin. Even without any repetition of this.”

“Come play with me then.” Cris hummed, brushing a hand into Luka’s longer hair, softly ruffling it. “I’d certainly make you feel appreciated.”

“I’ll think about it.”

They both smiled and somehow, Luka noticed, the angry world cup trophy shaped hole in his heart had already started stitching itself together again.


End file.
